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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757838">who are we to wonder we’re going</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/afloat/pseuds/afloat'>afloat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Louie Duck-centric, Not Canon Compliant, Running Away, Self-Esteem Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:08:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757838</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/afloat/pseuds/afloat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>louie slouches against walls and tables and chairs, apathy written in the curve of his body, in the way his hands are shoved in his pockets, in the dorito dust staining the corners of his mouth, and in the bright orange crumbs and dark spots coating his green sweatshirt. </p><p>(what’s he good for?)</p><p>he wants to be more. he wants to be more than a footnote in the lives of his uncle scrooge or his brothers or webby. he wants to be more than just one of the triplets. he wants to be remembered as louie duck and not so-and-so’s something. he wants to be remembered. </p><p>he doesn’t want to fade away.</p><p>he thinks about leaving. permanently. disappearing in the wind one day forever. maybe live a normal life. maybe live a life like uncle gladstone. he thinks that if he left, no one would notice he was gone for a good few days.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Louie Duck &amp; Duck Family, Louie Duck &amp; Lena (Disney: DuckTales)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>who are we to wonder we’re going</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>honestly i haven’t watched ducktales in a while and i’m also majorly behind, i’ve seen up to the ep where donald gets stuck on the moon and della and the kids reunite so apologies for anything thats not quite canon compliant. why i chose louie to self project on i have no idea but yeah i also took major liberties with the characters so i’m sorry if they’re ooc.<br/>unbeta'd we die like men<br/>title from netflix trip by ajr</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>louie is the youngest of the triplets. and its cliche if they all act the same and dress the same and have the same interests. so huey is the oldest and is the straight-backed rule following junior woodchuck dedicated to exploring if only to gain more knowledge, and dewey is the middle child and is desperate for attention and leaps to adventure, hell bent on uncovering the answers to unasked questions (like their mom). and then there’s louie himself who slouches against walls and tables and chairs, apathy written in the curve of his body, in the way his hands are shoved in his pockets, in the dorito dust staining the corners of his mouth, and in the bright orange crumbs and dark spots coating his green sweatshirt.</p><p>(what’s he good for?)</p><p>and aren’t they still cliches, or is it just the nature of families for the eldest sibling to be responsible and the middle child a bit attention starved and the youngest to be a bit adrift?</p><p>(but isn’t it also all the same— clinging to rules and craving approval and wanting to know who you are?)</p><p>louie often finds himself wondering what defines him.</p><p>//</p><p>louie’s skin crawls as he watches this bratty kid who’s got everything in the world at his feet (except true friends). doofus orders his servants around in front of him, and his chest is a bit tight and his breaths shallow and quick. his hand reaches out and scrabbles at the front of his sweatshirt trying to relieve the peculiar sensation plaguing him. </p><p>“bring me some chocolate, wait no— a chocolate pool, and i want you to pour chocolate into my mouth!” doofus yells to his butler and maid.</p><p>his maid replies, “yes, young master,” and lets out a bone-tired sigh.</p><p>and louie thinks that maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t have wanted to have grown up rich. </p><p>(in another world, could that be him? would he end up like doofus drake?) </p><p>//</p><p>
  <i>if you put this scene on a movie screen, is it called a helping hand?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>if the world gets me where i’m supposed to be will i know i’ve made it then? </i>
</p><p>
  <i>it’s so hard</i>
</p><p>
  <i>can we skip to the good part?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>(the good part, ajr)</i>
</p><p>//</p><p>louie wants. he wants so badly that his ribs hurt, and his insides are a void that is never sated. he wants a lot of different things. </p><p>he wants to be more. he wants to be more than a footnote in his family’s lives. he wants to be more than just one of the triplets. he wants to be remembered as louie duck and not so-and-so’s something. he wants to be remembered. </p><p>he doesn’t want to fade away. </p><p>he wants frivolous, material things that he’s never been able to have. he wants money. he wants his mom. he wants, he wants, he wants. </p><p>//</p><p>louie thinks about his family a lot. he thinks about how huey doesn’t need to take on extra burdens because even though he’s the oldest, it’s only by minutes (and the expectation that the eldest sibling must be the responsible one is just that. a stereotype and an expectation.)</p><p>they’re triplets after all— they look out for each other, in their own ways. </p><p>but they all cope (with life, with loss) differently and huey wants them all to be safe (to do what they want) and dewey wants them all to live (and keep living) and louie wants them all to be comfortable (to find who they are, be who they are). </p><p>that’s why huey memorizes rules and tips and the entire junior woodchucks handbook. that’s why dewey throws himself into adventure and finding clues to their mom. that’s why louie takes it upon himself to be the realist, provide the necessary cynicism so they don’t get hurt, to help uncle donald with money. </p><p>//</p><p>everyone else is gone. off on some adventure or something; he’s not exactly sure what. (he fell asleep in front of the tv, his phone in his lap. when he woke up, no one was home.)</p><p>alone in the giant mcduck manor, the silence is too much for louie. it’s funny that people call this feeling the silence when its not really silent in the sense of an absence of noise because that’s improbable. </p><p>it’s more the feeling of it being silent. there’s not enough feet pounding across creaky floorboards, not enough laughter echoing through too tall halls. instead there’s just the wind sneaking in through the cracks in the windows and doors, the delicate twittering of bird calls permeating the thick stone walls from the outside. </p><p>every movement he makes is loud against the monotonous hum of silence in his ears. his socked feet thump against the hardwood floors and sink into the carpets. he runs his hand across the stone walls and his sweatshirt rustles and his bones creak. restlessly he paces the manor. from the basement to the main floor to the attic, phone in hand all the while. </p><p>once in a while, he idly checks it, but it seems like now of all times, everything is quiet, nothing going on. </p><p>he coughs and the noise hangs in the air. </p><p>his ears itch and he pulls out his phone and puts on the first playlist he sees. </p><p>the music settles something in the bottom of his stomach (the void). but there’s still a niggling feeling of wrongness— no, missingness.</p><p>his eyelids are heavy and he moves around sluggishly. he heads to his room and clambers into his bunk. he stares at the ceiling and pretends its the star-studded sky. louie imagines he can hear his mom telling him about the stars (when really it was uncle donald). earbuds jammed in, he switches his music to something softer— something if asked about, he’d deny listening to. </p><p>he falls asleep dreaming about the moon.</p><p>//</p><p>honestly louie’s still not sure if everything starting from when they found out The Scrooge McDuck was their great uncle is real or a really great dream. </p><p>he doesn’t really understand how his life has come to this. constant adventuring, living in a spooky mansion. don’t get him wrong, it’s awesome, but he can’t help but feel as though one day it’s all going to end. it feels like a fantasy and he's not sure whether he wants it to be real or not.</p><p>he thinks about leaving. permanently. disappearing in the wind one day forever. maybe live a normal life. maybe live a life like uncle gladys. </p><p>he thinks that if he left, no one would notice he was gone for a good few days. </p><p>//</p><p> the thing about living in a cramped boat-house and living in a single small room in your rich, miserly uncle’s mansion and having two brothers, three uncles, a sister/friend, a ghostly butler, and a secret agent/badass housekeeper/grandma is that louie rarely has time truly by himself, the all-holy “me time”. </p><p>another thing is: he doesn’t have many— scratch that, he doesn’t have any— friends, or even really know anyone outside of the duck family relations and connections for lack of a better word.</p><p>they’re his entire world. </p><p>but they can be too much at times— he feels a little too much some days and other days he doesn't feel anything except an aching, hungry void. on those days, screams are trapped in his lungs, and there's a knot of something constricted in his stomach. he doesn't quite know how to act or what the void wants, so he just ignores it until the feeling passes.</p><p>they're too overbearing, too loud, too much, too too too too too and he ducks into the bathroom and sits on the toilet head in his hands. the window is opened a crack and he can see the moon's lonely sliver in the sky and hear the crickets' lament. he grabs hold of the window ledge and pulls himself out.</p><p>he lands in the soft grass and runs and runs and runs. the trees bend and sway towards him and away, as the wind winds through the branches— the silvery light of the moon illuminating the way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if you read this sorry for making you read my bullshit, but thanks for sticking through it! kudos/comments appreciated! next chapter should be up shortly because quarantine. stay safe everyone.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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